The Cé La Luna Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Wedding bells are ringing, the wine and the food are flowing but then things go astray in a very unexpected way for our agents on what should be a joyous day... romance, humor, friendship, drama. lang, ch 6 # 15 Saga-series  AU
1. Chapter 1

_This story takes place two weeks after "The Atlantean Affair."_

Listen in the distance and you hear a mandolin playing a soft tremolo, think the theme from the Godfather and you have set the mood...

**"The Cé La Luna Affair" (There is a moon)**

Our Lady of Angels Church in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn New York stood like sentinel taking up a half block had a great mansion-like look to it, with its imposing 80 ft. bell tower at it's corner. The washed brick and terracotta place of worship was built in the Italian Romanesque style and dedicated in 1891; it became one of the first Roman Catholic Churches to serve the areas strong Italian population.

The church and surrounding trees that lined the block were decorated in beautiful white satin ribbons, signifying there was a wedding at this beautiful edifice today.

The guests in their finest regalia entered the church through the large arched doorway adorned with a relief, carved as if it were from the middle ages; the Madonna and child, flanked on either side by two adoring winged seraphim as protective guardians. The motto carved beneath in latin_'S. Angelorum. Dictatum. Marias. _angels dedicated to Mary.'

The last of the guests arrived in his armored limousine, he too flanked by guardians but these were not angels, they were agents of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.

Alexander Waverly was here to attend that wedding and it was one that he had never envisioned happening. It was the marriage of his number one agent and heir apparent to the position of Chief Continental to U.N.C.L.E. Northwest, Napoleon Solo to Josephina Graziani, affectionately known as Bella. She was niece of Waverly's longtime friend and former Police Commissioner of of New York City, Carmine Valenti."*

UNCLE policy had changed recently and now section two agents were now permitted to marry. Waverly's number two agent Illya Kuryakin was the first take the plunge, in what Waverly called his little experiment. And that being deemed a success, opened the door for the major policy change.

The organization realizing that times and the world were changing, the addition of female agents as well as the family clause were both Waverly's ideas that barely made it through summit approval and now for better or for worse they were policy. Solo would be the sixth agent to step into the world of marital bliss and as far as Waverly could see everything was so far so go.

For some reason Thrush, as bloodthirsty and ruthless as they were seemed to ignore the families of these agents, treating them as if they were neutral territory. It was at first a major concern that the spouse of an agent could be used as fodder for hostage and blackmail situations but as such, it had not been the case.

The dignified section one head of U.N.C.L.E. walked up the steps to the church, looking very dapper and British wearing a classic morning suit with black pinstripe pants and as a proper gentleman would; he removed his top hat as he entered the church.

The walls with six long stained-glass windows on either side were lined with tall green marble Corinthian columns, as were the steps to the altar. To the side in a vestibule was a carve marble replica of Michelangelo's Pietà, but the focal point of the church was a large painting just above the altar, a magnificent over sized depiction of the Ascension of the Virgin Mary being carried into heaven by angels.

The interior of the church and pews were adorned with a myriad of ribbons and bows signifying the marriage bond.

"I can't do this." Napoleon blurted out.

Illya looked at him wide-eyed."What do you mean, you cannot do this...a little late to realize that, is it not?" he asked cautiously.

Solo laughed, realizing what his partner was alluding to. "No no, it's my tie, I just can't get it right," he complained as he let his bow tie fall limp around his collar.

Kuryakin snickered as he grabbed his friend and partner by the shoulders, turning Napoleon to face him.

"And here I thought you were coming down with a case cold feet? Here let me help" he smiled.

A minute later the bow tie was done up perfectly.

"There, you look dashing as always."

"Thanks, I'm all thumbs today."

Napoleon stood in front of a full length mirror, checking his profile as he admired his white tuxedo jacket, straightening his black cummerbund.

"I look good," he smiled, then glanced over at Illya in his own white double-breasted tuxedo jacket and black trousers; thinking that it was probably the best dressed he'd ever seen the Russian in formal wear.

"You clean up nice you know that tovarisch? It was about time you got rid of that old tux of yours. You looked like you were going to a prom in that thing."

"This is Oleg Cassini I will have you know, " the Russian smiled

"My heart be still," Napoleon laughed, " how westernly decadent of you?"

"There is no need to insult me and there was nothing wrong with my old one " Illya said proudly, " but Elliott insisted that I get a new one as she hated that ruffled shirt. I supposed it was a bit dated?" He admitted sheepishly. "So now I have two tuxedos, and one of them is black of course," he winked.

He checked his wristwatch. "It is time." Illya whispered.

The two men walked out into the church, taking their places at the green marble steps below the altar. The families had been there early in the morning for the celebration of a private mass and now were back for the marriage ceremony. Our Lady of Angels was the family parish for the Grazianis, having had five of seven of Bella's brothers weddings held there, as they all had married girls from the neighborhood.

There had also been countless christenings at the church as well as the Graziani family was a large one, and would be larger still in seven and a half months, when Bella gave birth to her first child. No one on her side of the family knew that she had gotten pregnant, otherwise there would have been feudal hell to pay.

The Solo family was aware and unhappy, thinking that it was a shotgun wedding. Napoleon didn't bother to explain as they wouldn't have believed him anyway. It was the opinion of Darius Solo and that Bella was beneath Napoleon. Solo's mother and niece Amelia were very much in favor of her and adored Bella. Napoleon's younger brother had yet to voice an opinion, or for that matter show up; as the agent glanced back to see the faces in the church. His brother Hannibal still no where to be seen.

His father sat with his arms crossed, looking quite cross while his sisters looked bored. Only mom smiled at him and wondered if his brother was boycotting the wedding for having been passed over as best man in place of Illya. "to hell with them," Napoleon thought." it was his and Bella's wedding not theirs."

Illya stole a glance back at his wife, looking beautiful in an aqua blue dress that reminded him of waters the Aegean Sea he had seen so recently; she looked uncomfortable holding their son Demya in her lap. She too was pregnant and due virtually at the same time as Bella, but being a smaller woman, she already had a baby bump showing, unlike the bride to be.

The little blond boy looking more and more like his father was being well behaved and understood about how to conduct himself in a church as Elliott had taken him to mass on a number of occasions.

Though Illya had renewed his belief in God after professing that he was an atheist since he was ten; he was not ready or willing to attend formal religious services. His experiences with his families Orthodox Christian upbringing left him preferring a more personal and private relationship with his maker.

Demya waved to his papa, making his father smile, but then Illya raised his finger to his lips; reminding the boy to remain silent.

Napoleon's army buddy former Seargeant Billy Brasch, and Mark Slate, two of the seven ushers unraveled the white runner along the center aisle, preparing for the bride's entrance.

The organist in the choir loft at the back of the church sat bathed in multicolor sunlight streaming though the large florette stained-glass window behind her as she played seven notes on the organ. It was the beginning of Wagner's Bridal chorus, from Lohengrin, otherwise known as 'Here Comes the Bride,' signifying the start of the processional.

Napoleon's niece Amelia stepped onto the white runner as the music began, dressed in a pale yellow chenille dress with a puffy skirt as she called it. Her hair was done up in long baloney curls tied with several lavender ribbons. She carried a basket of white rose petals that she scattered along the aisle as she walked carefully in time with the music towards the front of the church. She grinned happily to be part of her Uncle Napoleon's wedding to Aunt Bella.

The next of six brides maids followed. Napoleon turned to watch but his mouth hung open, aghast at the colors of the gowns.

They were lavender chiffon with bright yellow macrame vests and braiding on the cuffs. The girls had sprays of lavender and yellow flowers in their hair and carried pale yellow bouquets that cascaded down in front of them. They looked like something that had hopped out of an Easter basket. At least the groomsmen were clothed in all-black tuxedos with a boutonnière of lavender pinned to their lapels.

The dresses were apparently made and generously donated by several of Bella's maiden Aunts...

Illya tried not to laugh as he saw his friends reaction; elbowing him into closing his mouth.

The maid of honor appeared last, Bella's first cousin Gina Rossini, a rather buxom blond with large...cow eyes who had taken a fancy to Illya when they first met at the rehearsal dinner; making for some awkward retreats on the part of the Russian. She didn't seem overly concerned when Illya told her he was married. He looked at her in her yellow gown, the reverse colors of what the others were wearing, trying not to laugh as he thought for a moment that she looked like a giant banana.

The bride appeared through the arched doorway, escorted by her proud father. She was dressed in a cream colored satin gown, modest bibbed neckline tight fitted sleeves and a high waistline with a full princess-like skirt. A long veil attached to a sparkling tiara covered her face. The gown was ornately embroidered, with minute pearls and iridescent beads adorning the fabric. She looked as though she had stepped out of the time of the Rennaissance, the gown looking very reminiscent to Napoleon of the fresco of the Disputation of St. Catherine by Pinturiochio.

Bella wore no jewelry as was the Italian custom, as it was considered other jewelry would detract form the wedding rings' symbolism and the vows they represented.

Napoleon flashed a wide dimpled smile, forgetting everything else around him, focusing only on his bellissima_beauty, his Bella as she approached the stairs at the altar.

Pop Graziani placed his Bella's hand into Napoleon's, then leaned forward teary-eyed, whispering a few words.

"You be gooda my dawta. Capisce_understand?" he said, giving Napoleon a light pat on the cheek.

"Capisco sì io_ I understand and yes I will." Solo promised as his eyes returned to Bella.

Napoleon leaned to her, whispering quietly, "You look magnificent, but what's with the color or those bridesmaid gowns?"

"Hey," she chided, " I _told_ you that you needed to be more involved in your own wedding?" then she shrugged at Napoleon, giving him that _oh well_ sort of look.

The ceremony, filled with ritual, prayers, readings from the bible and a homily from the priest was a long one, even without the mass and Illya was amazed at the amount of sitting, standing and kneeling that took place; he was accustomed to Russian Orthodox churches that had no seating, and only chairs provided on the sides for the elderly. He looked back at Demya who was apparently beginning to get antsy, flashing a wide-eyed look at Elliott to watch he boy.

Suddenly there was a scream from someone in a pew, then another, followed by a Madre di Dio_Mother of God!" Waverly's body guards reached for their weapons as did all the other agents in the church.

"I topi_mice!" a woman squealed, "e la rana_frogs!" cried another as a few of the offending creatures appeared on the white carpet, trying to make their getaway.

Some of the men gathered together, quickly chasing them out of church, taking a deep breath in hopes an air of dignity would return quickly.

The two altar boys standing beside the priest, both Bella's cousins covered their mouths to hide their laughter. The priest, Father Renaldi spotted them and the boys being notorious pranksters were flashed the mallocchio_ evil eye.

"I will talk to you two later about this, " he warned under his breath, That was when the boys faces went white, as they made the signs of the horn with their hands to ward off the potential curse from the priest. Then they blessed themselves as well.

Napoleon could see Bella's anger under the veil but then she laughed obviously knowing her mischievious cousins.

Father Renaldi called for the blessing of the rings, looking to the best man to surrender them.

Illya reached in his pocket, his eyes suddenly flashing with a momentary look of concern as they were not there. He checked his other pockets, then began to pat himself down with his look changing to one of panic as he still could not locate the rings.

Napoleon was now scowling at him. "come, on where are they?" he whispered.

"I had them, I swear."

Solo nervously checked his own pockets, pulling out a small piece of iron, looking at it quizzically.

"Put it back, Bella asked you carry it to ward off evil spirits," Illya said quickly. He could see that Napoleon was getting annoyed.

Then the Russian smiled with a sigh of relief as he held up his hand. He had stuck the rings on his own ring finger for safe keeping. " Sorry," he shrugged as he handed them to the priest.

Father Renaldi blessed the rings with holy water, then spoke to Bella and Napoleon.

"A circle is the symbol of wholeness, perfection and unity. Like circles these rings have no beginning and no end. They are tokens of the growing relationship that Josephina and Napoleon have given here to celebrate and confirm. "

The organist struck up 'Ave Maria' as Bella and Napoleon stepped to the side to light their marriage candle.

"The light of the candles represent faith, wisdom and love that they have received from their parents and are distinct, each burning alone Josephina and Napoleon light the single candle to symbolize the union of their lives. As one light burns undivided, so shall their love be one," said the priest. " May the radiance of this one light be testimony of their unity, may this candle burn brightly as symbols to their commitment to each other and as tribute to their parents everlasting love for them.

Bella placed a bouquet of white roses passed to her by Amelia at the base of a statue of the Blessed Virgin, then she and Napoleon returned to their place before the altar.

"A reading form Matthew 5:1- 12A. When Jesus saw the crowds, they went up to the mountain and after he had sat down his disciples came to Him then began to teach them saying, blessed are the poor for theirs is the kingdom of heaven...blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called children of God...rejoice and be glad for your reward will be great in heaven. Praise be to you O Lord Jesus Christ." the priest said kissing the page of the bible.

Then he turned to the couple before him, who saw nothing but each other's eyes, his a deep warm brown, hers a hypnotic violet.

"Josephina and Napoleon have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to give yourselves to each other in marriage."

"I have." Napoleon and Bella answered together.

"Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

"I will."

"Will you accept children lovingly from God and raise them according to the laws of the church?"

"I will, " this time they both smiled.

"Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands and declare your intentions before and to each other."

"Oh my dear friends, let us ask God to bless Josephina and Napoleon in their marriage and to consecrate them in love through the Holy Spirit."

The entire church responded, "Lord hear our prayer."

" We pray for Josephina and Napoleon that their love for each other may be patterned after the love of Christ for His church.

"Lord hear our prayer."

The priest repeated their entreaties to God and each time the entire church replied, "Lord hear our prayer."

"Almighty God of life and love , we make our requests in prayer, through Christ our Lord."

"Amen"

Father Renaldi looked at Bella and Napoleon with a smile. "Now here comes the best part."

"Napoleon please speak you vows to Josephina then place the ring on the ring finger of her left hand."

Napoleon Solo took a deep breath as he took the ring from the priests hand, holding Bella's left hand in his.

His voice was nervous as he spoke, " I Napoleon take you...Napoleon," he suddenly realized his slip of the tongue, " I meant Josephina, to be my wife . I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. Then he placed the ring on her finger.

"I Bella...Josephina take you Napoleon..." she repeated the same vows to him, with tears falling down her cheeks, then slipped the gold band on to his finger with a little extra push to get it over the joint that had obviously been broken a few times.

Father Renaldi addressed the congregation. "In so much as this couple have declared their love and intentions before you all, is there anyone here who can find a reason why this man and this woman should not be joined in the sacrament of matrimony. If so then speak now or forever hold your peace."

There was a moment of silence, then suddenly a voice spoke out.

"Papa, can we go now?" Demya called out loud.

The entire church broke out into laughter, then Illya answered back in Russian, "Vskore Demyachka, my budem delat' v blizhaishee vremya. Teper, pozhaluista uspokoish'sya_soon Demyachka. We will be done soon. Now please be quiet?"

Elliott whispered into Demya's ear, promising there would be lots of food and cake at the reception.

"Since _no_ one objects" Father Renaldi smiled, "then I declare before God and this gathering that Napoleon and Josephina are now husband and wife. You may now seal your union with a kiss."

Napoleon lifted Bella's veil then took her face in his hands, touching her tenderly as they kissed; holding each other for a long time. They finally ended their embrace, turning to face their guests.

"Signore e signorini_ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Napoleon Solo."

The entire church broke out into a raucous round of applause as the bells in the tower began to sound joyfully. Then the happy couple made their way down the aisle followed by their wedding party while the organist played Widor's Toccata from Symphony for organ No. 5.

* ref "The Cabin in the Woods Affair"

Note: Bella was introduced in "The Summit Affair" and appears in several stories, "The Solo Affair" and "The Enemy from Within Affair"


	2. Chapter 2

The reception was held outside it the vast gardens at a large private estate in Yonkers owned by Bella's Uncle Carmine; the back of the house having been beautifully appointed and landscaped for the occasion.

There were circular tables with white cloths scattered everywhere to seat the nearly 200 expected guests and in the center of each one was a floral arrangement of white lilies and lilacs. Old Italian melodies filled the air as a full band complete with trumpets, clarinets, guitars, mandolins, accordions and a drum kit were playing and there was enough food to satisfy even one Russian with a very voracious appetite, maybe two if you counted his son as well.

The guests arrived through a guarded wrought iron-gated entrance with several young valets parking the cars carefully outside the relative safety of the brick walls surrounding the property. Alexander Waverly's car was left with it's own driver to ensure that it was secure while he accompanied by his body guards and as well as the other guests strolled along the long cobblestone driveway to the backyard.

There were white trellises erected around the back garden, draped with garlands of white and yellow flowers intermingled with sprigs of lavender and lilacs; their scent filling the air with their heady aromas. Peace roses were in bloom everywhere.

The band welcomed the arrivals with a few lively tunes as guests seated themselves and waiters in short white crisply-starched short jackets came around taking their drink orders and serving antipasto, prosciutto and cantaloupe, marinated vegetables, olives and broconcini, bruschetta, calimari, various cheeses and other such delights.

Elliott with Demya was seated with Lisa Rogers and several agents from Section III and of course Mr. Waverly; there without his wife who was away in London, tending to family business accompanied by April Dancer. The security team was standing off to the side trying not to look too conspicuous, but rumours were flying that Waverly was a Mafia 'Don' and guests were either avoiding him or approaching him with trepidation, showing him 'respect'. The 'old man' found it quite amusing.

The red-haired agent was offered to be relieved of her son several times by quite a few of the old 'nonnas' who fell in love with his long blond hair and blue eyes, but Elliott wouldn't hear of it. Older or not; she didn't really trust any stranger with the son of Illya Kuryakin; one never knew even at a wedding such as this that had a fair amount of security and armed agents present.

"Mama, I'm thirsty." Demya announced to his mother.

Elliott helped him drink a small glass of apple juice; he had barely finished it when he asked one of many questions she was now sure were to follow.

"Mama, where's papa, when is he coming?"

"He has ta have photographs taken with Uncle Napoleon and Aunt Bella. remember Demmy I told ye this morning? Now here eat and let mama relax for a bit please?" She handed him some prosciutto ham and pieces of cantaloupe.

"Mmm, this is good mama." he smiled

She laughed to herself, thinking the boy found almost every kind of food good, just like his father."

"That's nice, Demmy, eat slowly please as there's lots of food for you ta sample here alright. I don't suppose ye'd understand what pacing yerself means hmm?"

"No mama, what does it mean?"

Elliott realized she'd opened a can of worms on that one and so much for peace for a few moments. Demya had reached the question and answer faze, wanting to know why the sky was blue and the grass is green and sometimes it could become quite exhausting.

"It means to take yer time."

"Why?"

"Demmy don't start with me?"

"Why?"

Elliott grabbed a waiter's attention, taking a small plate of mozzarella and tomato from his tray; putting it in front of her son, but he was silent for all of two seconds, starting his conversation all over again.

"This is good too mama. When is papa coming?"

"Oh Lord?" Elliott sighed.

Lisa Rogers was sitting beside her, chuckling while she listened in on her dilemma.

"Hey Ellitott, how's about I watch the boy for a bit to give you a break?" she smiled at her.

"Ah Lisa, would ye? I need ta fine a ladies room? Thanks darlin' yer a saint. " She hefted Demya, depositing him in her lap. "Just keep giving him food Lisa and he'll be happy."

"Why?" Lisa teased her.

"Oh Jay-sus don't ye start too!" she laughed, planting a kiss on the blond's cheek.

"Demmy, ye be good fer Miss Lisa and I'll be back in a wee bit, alright."

Elliott disappeared into the house searching for a bathroom...

The bridal party headed for photographs to Prospect park, with the photographer dragging them to several locations, the Pagoda gazebo, Binnen Bridge, Terrace Bridge and the Nethermead. They were getting just a bit tired and hungry at this point and the couple asked for a break.

Napoleon somehow made a bottle of champagne and a pair of glasses appear as he and Bella disappeared to a shaded spot near the lake. He popped the bubbly then poured the champagne for the two of them.

"Mrs. Solo," he whispered to her, " I thought you were already beautiful, but the way you look today...I'm at loss for words. " He leaned over touching his forehead to hers, then kissed her tenderly, rubbing his nose against her.

"Look pretty good yourself Solo." she laughed softly as she stroked his face.

Napoleon cocked his head, hearing a noise behind them; automatically pulling his Walther from his shoulder holster and pointing it directly at the sound.

"Whoa! Hold on there Napoleon it's only me!" said the photographer quite nervously as he stepped from the bushes.

"Jerry, you know better than to sneak up on an agent. You've done work like this for us before?"

"Napoleon, you wore your gun to your own wedding?" Bella complained.

"Sorry honey, s.o.p. don't leave home without it." he shrugged.

"Me too," said Jerry, flashing his weapon from beneath his jacket. " I wasn't sneaking, but I did get a great shot of you two alone, real casual-like. It's gonna be a good one."

At that moment Illya appeared through the bushes looking quite harried.

"Bella, will you _please_ tell your cousin Gina to stop hounding me? If she keeps this up, I will not be held responsible for what happens." he continued walking, disappearing though the bushes behind them.

Seconds later Gina Rossini went past. "Illya? Where are you?" She disappeared as well, hot on the Russian's heels."

Napoleon and Bella laughed, thinking that the reception with Elliott there and Gina chasing after Illya was going to be an interesting scenario to watch unfold.

"You really should set her straight," Napoleon said. " Ellie might get a bit testy with her?"

"I suppose so? But it could be _fun_ to watch for just a little bit please?"

"Hey, she's your cousin." he laughed.

The photo session complete, then the wedding party left for the twenty- six minute drive to Yonkers for the reception.

The reception was already in full swing with drinks and wine flowing along with the endless appetizers. The band was busy playing the song Funiculi' Funicula' when the Napoleon, Bella and their entourage arrived to great fanfare.

The bridesmaids and groomsmen made their entrance first, lining up in double rows, the men facing the women, with Amelia and her partner standing at the end of their lines, then Illya looking slightly pained, with Gina on his arm came into the reception.

They each held a ribbon in one hand, forming an arch, then in the other had they were handed bags of _bomboniera__ sugar coated almonds wrapped in tulle, tied with ribbons, each bag containing an uneven number that was considered lucky and the signified health, wealth, fertility, happiness and longevity. The sweetness of the sugar coating represented sweetness and combined with the bitterness of the almond signifying the bitter side of marriage.

There were more bomboniera placed on all of the tables at the reception, these tied in lace flowers and were tokens or favors for the guests to take home.

"Signori e Signorina_ ladies and gentlemen,"the emcee announced at the microphone, "for the _first_ time I would like to introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Napoleone Solo!"

The bridal party pelted them gently with the bombaniere as they passed through the arch then the band struck up a song immediately for the first dance by the couple done to the applause of the guests. The musicians played a rendition of Santa Lucia, as Napoleon and Bella glided across the floor until the dance was finished.

Then came the toast, as Illya being the best man helped to pass glasses of champagne out to the other guests, while Napoleon and Bella stepped up to the dais beside the head table, each taking a glass in their hands.

Illya paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then raised his glass to the bride and groom.

"Now it is my turn my friend, moy brat_my brother to wish you good fortune. It has been many years that we have known each other and I must say that I have _not_ had a better friend than you." he stopped for a second, " I did not think this day would come for you Napoleon, but always hoped it would, and now you have found the same love as I have and I could not be happier for you...the both of you."

"To quote from the Rubiyat of Omar Khayyam, 'Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends, Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.' May you have a long life of happiness and prosperity together. Alla via e all'amore_to life and love!

Za vashe zdrorovye_here is to you!" he said in Russian, then gave a traditional toast in Italian to signify a long life together, "Per cen'tanni_a hundred years!"

"Evviva gli sposi_hurray for the newlyweds!" the guests called out, "A salute_health!"

Napoleon and Bella placed their empty glasses on the ground, then someone covered them with a cloth as the two stepped on them; the broken pieces of glass representing the number of years of happy marriage...there were a lot of pieces; making the two of them smile.

Father Renaldi called for a moment of silence as he said a prayer of thanks and a blessing of the food and then the party went into full swing.

The bride and groom were finally able to sit down at their table to relax, signalling the feasting to begin, but no sooner did they sit then someone called out,

"Ora può baciare la sposa_you can kiss the bride!" The guests kept calling it until Napoleon kissed Bella, then responded with plenty of ' bene_good' and applause.

"Do you think we'll get to eat much," Bella whispered.

"Depends on what you're hungry for, there's always later?" Napoleon said with a growl.

"Down boy, save it for the honeymoon." she laughed.

Then the two watched in amusement while Gina followed Illya as he was after a waiter for some appetizers.

"Ten bucks he ducks her by knocking over a tray of hors d'oeuvres," Napoleon whispered in Bella's ear.

"Sorry honey, that's a sucker bet if I ever heard one." she giggled.

Suddenly there was a crash, and as Napoleon had predicted; Illya send a tray flying in front of Gina; the food just missing her gown as the Russian disappeared from sight.

Napoleon's mother made eye contact with him as she smiled, blowing a kiss to him; he caught it in his hand as he grinned back at her, then blew one back to her with a wink. His father made no attempt to get his attention, nor he his father's.

Dad was angry that Hannibal had not been asked to be best man, feeling that blood was thicker than water and having a Communist Russian serving that role did not sit well with the former military man. Napoleon tried to tell his father that Illya was trying to become an American citizen, but thanks to the stone-walling by the C.I.A. the process had been delayed several times, but looked like it was going to happen soon. Not that Darius Solo cared...

Billy Brasch, Napoleon's buddy from their time in Korea stepped up to Darius Solo, and stuck up a conversation about the war, distracting dad; keeping him happy for the moment. Napoleon's sisters were looking quite miserable, Stella being her usual snobbish self, felt as though she were slumming. Milicent and Theresa were in the middle of divorces and were feeling out of place, not having escorts for the wedding. The only ones seeming genuinely happy were his mother and niece Amelia.

He resigned himself to the fact that his brother was not going to show after, then sighed, dismissing his disappointment, looking back at his lovely bride that sat beside him. He leaned over without prompting from the guests giving her a kiss.

Bella noticed the pensive look in his eyes. " You alright sweetheart?"

"Mmm huh, thank you Bella," he smiled.

"For what?" She reached over, running her finger along his chin, stopping at his dimple.

"Just for being you." He reached over carefully laying his hand on her tummy, then leaned close to her ear." I can't believe how lucky a man I am; getting you and a child."

"Shhhshush. Don't say that here? If anyone overhears, my brothers will..."

"What? Kill me?" he took a sip of champagne, " Then they'd have an fatherless nephew?"

"Or nieces,"she corrected then laughed, "No, they'd never do that, but let's say it would create some tension and I don't really want any such thing to spoil our day?"

"You're right Bellissima, this is going to be a tension-free day today." he said kissing her again then he fed her a little piece of prosciutto.

"Wait a minute, did you just say _nieces_?"

"Napoleon," Bella said softly," close your mouth before a fly gets in it."


	3. Chapter 3

Illya Kuryakin left his seat at the head table momentarily freeing himself of the amorous clutches of the relentless cousin Gina.

"My dear," he said to her as he pulled her hand away from his arm, " I am very flattered by your attentions, but if you see that petite red-head sitting over there, " he pointed toward Elliott. "she will not be as polite to you as I have been if you continue in your pursuits?"

"That little thing? What would you want with a flat chested..."

"_Gina_, I suggest you do not go there." Illya spoke sharply as he rose from the table, throwing his napkin on his plate in disgust. He walked away with the intention of going to sit with his wife and son, passing the Solo's table as he did, not sure if he should stop as they looked uncomfortable and detached from the festivities.

"Illya?" called Napoleon's mother, " you're not going to say hello?"

"How are you Mrs. Solo?" he smiled gently. The woman had always been kind to him each time they had met.

"Alright I suppose, " she said as she stood, giving him a peck on the cheek. She rolled her eyes at the rest of her family who were acting aloof, leaving Illya to wonder how such a lovely woman put up with them.

"Hello Mr. Solo, Stella, Milicent, Theresa, " Illya greeted them all by name.

The only responses he received were nods and Theresa turning her head away in a huff. He knew she had a crush on him for a while and Napoleon told him that she was quite miffed when she heard he had gotten married and had a child.

Except for Napoleon's mother and niece; "they were a strange lot," the Russian thought to himself.

"I'm so sorry Illya. There's no _excuse_ for them to be rude," she chastised her husband and daughters.

He glanced over to the table where Elliott and Demya were seated."Mrs. Solo there are two people I would very much like you to meet." he said offering his arm. She abandoned her dismal brood without a moments hesitation.

Illya walked up to the table with the handsome woman on his arm as his son called out to him.

"Papa why are you sitting all the way over there? Did you and mama have a fight again?

Illya's face went red with embarrassment. "Nyet, Eto bulo ne ochen'vezhlivo s vashyei storony skazat' chto etim ochen' milaya dama_ that was not very polite of you to say that in front of this very nice lady? Znaete li vy, ktoeto_do you know who this is?"

"Nyet papa."

"Demya, I would like you to say hello to Uncle Napoleon's mama."

"Hallo" the boy smiled impishly, " Papa...yee babushka_ is she my grandmother?"

"No," his father laughed, " she is Amelia's grandmother. Excuse me for my own rudeness Mrs. Solo for speaking in Russian.

"Oh please Illya dear, there is nothing to concern yourself about. My your son is a delight! How many languages does he speak?"

Illya's face brightened showing his pride in his son, " He speaks Russian, Irish, English and is developing a good understanding of Polish, Ukrainian, French and German"

"My goodness? And how old is he?"

"Just a little over three."

She was quite impressed as she turned her attention to the boy, speaking to him directly.

"Bonjour Monsiuer Demya. Je suis heueux de vous recontrer_ hello mister Demya. I am pleased to meet you. Perhaps later you could have a dance with me?" She received a huge grin from the boy upon hearing that.

"Ouis madame," He responded in French, delighting Mrs. Solo tremendously. "Illya he is so much like you!"

"And this beautiful red-head is my wife Elliott, Illya said with delight in this voice. "Annushka, I would like you to meet Napoleon's mother."

"Ah sure it's indeed a pleasure ta meet ye at last." Elliott shook Mrs. Solo's hand. " ye have quite a son there and he's chosen a wonderful bride. May they give ye many grandchildren to enjoy."

"Elliott is is indeed an honor to meet the woman that captured this young man's heart." Mrs. Solo smiled. " You both have been wonderful friends to my Napoleon. Now I'm sure you want to spend a few moments together and the smell of that delicious food is calling me. Remember Demya, you have a dance with me later?"

Illya sat at the empty table with his wife and son. Lisa and Mark were off having a dance and Mr. Waverly was mingling with his security team in tow, visiting with his friend Carmine and the Graziani parents.

"Illuysha, how goes it with the wedding party? I have ta admit, it's no fun sitting here while ye are up there."

He reached out, touching her cheek in sympathy. "I know, trust me; I would much rather be seated here with you, but it is my obligation at least for the moment. I think later I will be able to join you, and none too soon. Anya, Bella's cousin...the maid of honor is driving me crazy. She has been chasing after me since we were first introduced. It is most distracting and annoying as she will not take no for an answer."

Elliott let out a small laugh. "Sure then _ye_ did tell her that ye are married right?"

The guests broke out into a rousing chorus of _ora può baciare la sposa__kiss the bride! Napoleon and Bella interrupted their first course, gladly obliging them  
>.<p>

"Yes, several times but that apparently is meaningless to her." Illya continued, "I cannot even enjoy my meal with her there...she, she tried _feeding_ me?"

Elliott laughed out loud at that one. " Well perhaps a visit from yer wife is in order?" she said wickedly.

"Nyet, Annushka, please do not? I do not wish to make the situation worse."

"Are ye afraid I won't control myself?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Ha! Sure that's funny now. Moy lyubov'_my love, why don't ye sit here and eat with Demmy and me and forget about her fer now? I don't think anyone will care. I could use the company and besides, yer son needs a distraction from asking me all his questions. I need a break?"

He leaned over giving her a kiss on the cheek," Merci mon petite, that is the least I can do for you. How are you feeling?" he whispered as a waiter magically appeared with a plate of food, placing it in front of the Russian.

"Better, though this morning sickness in the evening is not fun, nor any time for that matter." Elliott smiled, then she promptly lifted their son, putting him in Illya's lap. "Let him warm ye for a bit then, feed him too while ye are at it.

Demya's eyes went wide at all the food in front of him and together he and his father sampled it. And for the first time Elliott could relax as both her boys were completely quiet while they polished off the plateful of food. When one was empty; a waiter took it away, putting another full plate in it's place.

The music played non-stop as the food continued to be served; first there was tortellini, penne and fettucini in cream and vodka sauces, Italian wedding soup, octopus salad... the next course of chicken picatta, veal parmigiana, and flounder Florentine, all served with fresh asparagus, new potatoes and summer vegetables.

People ate, drank and danced. There was no formal seating time for dinner as the food was constantly flowing with the guests moving all the while as the music continued to play.

A small platter was placed on the table in front of Elliott and she looked at it in dismay. It was something in red sauce with the outer edge of the plate lined with what looked like small conch shells. She poked her fork into it, spearing a small piece, tasting it. She hesitated, not sure if she liked it or not, then leaned over to Illya, whispering, "What is this?"

"Oh that is scungilli, rather tasty if you like that sort of thing. But I myself prefer French escargot."

"These are snails?" she blurted out, quickly grabbing her napkin as she gagged. Then Elliott looked rather ill, excusing herself from the table as Illya chuckled unsympathetically.

"Where's mama going?"

"To the bathroom I suspect."

"Mama has to go a lot. Why?"

"Because she does."

"But why?'

Illya sighed. "Because mama is going to have a baby and that is what happens to ladies when they are pregnant."

"I'm going to have a baby brother?" Demya asked with delight.

"Shhsssush." Illya said hugging his son close to him," Eto bol'shoi sekret, chto vy ne dolzhny govorit'_ it is a big secret that you must not tell. Can you do that for me please?"

Demya nodded, putting a finger to his lips as he had a mouthful of scungilli and one lesson that he had learned from his parents was to not speak with his mouth full of food.

"Horosho moya mal'chik_good boy, " his father said as he dug into his own plate of snails.

The master of ceremonies stepped up to the microphone speaking loudly into it, first in Italian then in English.

"Bienvenuti all celebrazione del matrimonio di Napoleone e Josephina_welcome to the marriage celebration of Napoleon and Josephina and without further delay, I'd like to now welcome a special guest to the festivities."

"Tonight we have a very special treat for you and the happy couple, he was able to make it here and just flew in direct from Las Vegas...he'll be appearing at the famed Copacabana in New York City, please welcome the one and only Mister Dean..."

"Oh my God! " one of the teenage guests screamed as a well-tanned man in a black tux walked onto the stage. "It's Deano!"

The young women rushed the stage with sighs and moans as the famed crooner stepped up to the microphone while several violinists seated themselves behind him.

Napoleon looked at Bella with surprise. "You got _him_ to sing at our wedding?Any other surprises you're going to lay on me today?"

"_Don't look at me_? I think Uncle Carmine had something to do with this; he always told me they knew each other and I'm just as surprised as you."

"Yeah I just flew in from Vegas and baby are my arms tired!" The famous crooner joked. Bada-boom-ching, the drummer chimed in.

"Hello there," Dean said to the group of girls gathered near the stage; his innocent greeting making several of them swoon as he stood holding a drink in his hand.

The emcee stepped up to the microphone again. "I think we've reached the time for those special dances. If I could ask the bride to join her father on the dance floor please? While our special guest serenades them to 'Daddy's Little Girl.'

Pop Graziani took his daughter's hand leading her to the center of the dance floor as Dean sang a soulful version of the song.

"You're the end of the rainbow, my pot of gold.

You're daddy's little girl to have and to hold.

A precious gem is what you are,

you're mama's bright shining star..."

By the time the last verse was sung; there wasn't a dry eye among the guests...

"You're the treasure I cherish, so sparkling and bright.

You are touched by the holy and beautiful light.

Like angels that sing a heavenly thing, you're daddy's little girl."

"Thank you Dean, that was beautiful."

A big round of applause for Mr. Graziani, " said Dean, " just think Pop, your daughter Josephina managed to find a man for herself named Napoleon, what are the odds on that...so you're not just gaining a son, you got yourself an emperor. That's it Napoleone e Josephina, emperor and his empress for the night! A salute!"

The guests joined his toast, repeating a salute_ health!

"Now," continued Dean, "can we ask Napoleon to escort his mother to the dance floor...they chose a real nice song to dance to so here goes folks."

Napoleon held his mother, smiling at her as the song began...

"Unforgettable, that's what you are, unforgettable through near and far.

Like a song of that clings to me, how he thought of you does things to me. Never before has someone been more...

Unforgettable, in every way, and forever more that's how you'll stay.

That's why darling it's incredible, that one so unforgettable,

thinks I am unforgettable too..."

As their dance concluded Napoleon leaned in, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, "I love you mom," he said as he slowly spun her in his arms, to a round of applause."Thank you for everything."

"I love you too son, I'm so proud of you."

"And now if the bride could please join the groom on the floor for their special dance. Frankie Sin..."

The mere mention of that name sent the young girls into a near frenzy.

"Take it easy ladies, take it easy, as I was saying Frank couldn't be here but I'm gonna sing one of his songs for the bride and groom", then Dean went into his rendition of 'Strangers in the Night.'

Napoleon took Bella in his arms, the two looking into each other's eyes.

"Strangers in the night, exchanging glances, wond'ring in the night what were the chances. We'd be sharing love, before the night was through.

Something in your eyes were so inviting..."

"It's true," Napoleon whispered, " it was something in those beautiful eyes of yours Bella, I love you so much."

She sang to him as the rest of the world ceased to exist, "love was just a glance a way a warm embracing dance away..."

Before the song was over the master of ceremonies spoke again,"I'd like the parents and family to join the happy couple on the dance floor please?"

Mom and Pop Graziani, the seven brothers with their spouses and dates as well as Mr. and Mrs. Solo joined them, but the Solo sisters refrained. Then at Napoleon's insistence, he called the Kuryakins to the floor as well; leaving Demmy in the care of Lisa Rogers and Mark Slate while they went to join the family.

Illya held out his hand, helping his wife to stand then walked onto the dance floor, feeling flattered that they were being considered family. Then as the singing ended the musicians went right into _O Sole Mio_ to continue the dancing.

"Do you regret not having a lavish wedding such as this?" Illya whispered, snuggling near his wife's ear.

"Not in the least, this is all a bit much if ye ask me. Our wedding was beautiful and I wouldn't change of moment of it, "she said as she planted a long kiss on his lips.

"Hey hey, none of that now," Napoleon said as he and Bella glided up along side them. "let's not forget who's wedding this is?"

"Perish the thought, " Illya smiled, then twirled his wife away.

Bella and Napoleon finally broke away from the dancing as the next round of food was beginning to be served. The words to _That's Amore_ now filling the air.

More food began to arrive, porchetta with roasted peppers, sea scallops in champagne, chicken Alphonse, filet mignon with wild mushroooms and seafood paletti and the guests looked like they were not losing their steam. Even Kuryakin was impressed with their appetites.

Then came pastries, tortes, tartufo, candied fruits, ice creams, cannoli , profiterols and dessert trays, this all before the exquisite four-tiered wedding cake was cut. But it was a signal that the wedding festivities would technically be coming to an end within the hour, but these things had a way of going on well past the time the happy couple departed for their wedding night, and these guests looked like they were just getting warmed up.

Napoleon and Bella walked from table to table greeting their guests as Bella carried a silk bag with her called the boursa, to receive the gits of money envelopes given to them.

Illya had to tend to a tradition of cutting the grooms tie or in this case a substitute, into pieces that would be sold off as wedding tokens to the guests as mementos; the money to be a tip to the band. Bella's brothers helped the Russian with this and when finished they pulled him aside for a proposal, a joke they were planning to pull on their new brother-in-law.

And when Kuryakin heard the plan, the only thing he had to say was...

"Count me in."


	4. Chapter 4

Grandma Graziani walked up to Alexander Waverly, the woman normally dressed in black was stunning in a grey and silver ensemble befitting a lady of her years. "Alex where you wife, she no here?"

"Ah Maria my dear sadly Mrs. Waverly is in London and I am stag for the evening." he said as he enjoyed a sip of pink champagne.

"Okay, then-a you dance wi me," she smiled.

"It would indeed be my honor madam," he said as he a held out his arm out to her, placing his glass on the tray held by a waiter as he passed by.

Grandma held Bella's boursa out in front first, looking for a contribution to be made to it, as was the custom when the nonna_grandmother took over the duties of watching it for the bride. It was then her job to get guests to pay for dances with her by asking for money for the couple, and of course to refuse would have been an unforgiveble insult.

Waverly smiled as he pulled out his wallet, withdrawing some bills and placing them in the silk bag that Grandma held out to him. Once the tariff had been paid; he took her to the dance floor for a tarantella.

The dancers joined in a large circle holding hands as Napoleon and Bella danced in the center of the circle; circling left then right around them, clapping in time with the song.

When it was finished, Dean walked over to congratulate Napoleon and Bella, then retired to sign autographs for his adoring fans.

Illya walked up beside his partner, making a comment." I did not know you were now rubbing elbows with celebrities?"

"Neither did I, knew nothing about this."

"Oh my gosh," squealed one of the young girls to another as they walked past the two agents carrying an autograph." I'm never going to wash that cheek again! Isn't he just gorgeous and did you see him in his spy movie _The Ambushers_? Wow _Matt Helm_, now that's what a real spy looks like, suave, debonnaire and handsome! Yeah he was great but that giant laser-death-ray thing seemed a bit far fetched?"Then they both giggled.

Napoleon and Illya just looked at each other with their eyebrows raised trying not to laugh out loud, having just had their own real-life experience with a so-called death ray." *

"So what do we look like, if not spies? Illya asked.

"Well apt description for me, suave debonnair, handsome but you," Solo smiled, " ah, you'd pass."

"How decent of you to say," Illya smirked.

Bella's Aunt Lucia stepped up to the microphone, somewhat tipsy and began to sing out loud, a little bawdy and suggestive song called

Cé la Luna Mezzo' Mare, as everyone clapped in time, joining in on the chorus.

"Cé la luna mezzo' mare, mamma mia maritari,

figghia mia, a cute dari mamma mia pensacit tu?

sicudugnulu babberi iddu a iddu veni

'u rassolu manu teni, si ci pigghia la fantasia

mi rasulia la figghis mia,

Oh mamma piscia fritta bacala Oh mamma piscia fritta bacala

Frigghia mia acut daie!"

"There is a moon in the middle of the sea, mother I must get married

my daughter who do I get for you? Mother I leave it up to you.

If I give the barber, he will come and he will go

But he'll always hold his razor in his hands, if he likes the idea

He'll razor you oh my daughter!"

The verses continued about a shoemaker hammering the daughter, the fisherman fishing the daughter, the farmer cucumber-ing the daughter and lastly the butcher using his sausage...

"But he'll always hold his sausage in his hands, if he likes the idea

He'll sausage you oh my daughter!"

Bella had walked up beside her husband, clapping her hands and singing along as she watched his reactions to each verse.

Then when the song was done everyone called to them again and again,"ora può baciare!"

"don't need anyone to tell me to do that, especially after that song," Napoleon growled as he bent his wife backwards in a dramatic embrace to the loud cheers and cat calls from the guests.

Bella continued visiting their guests while Napoleon excused himself, walking inside the house in search of a bathroom when he ran into Elliott as she was coming out and noticed she didn't look too well.

"Ellie honey, you alright?"

"Just a little morning sickness, it'll pass I hope."

"Morning sickness? " he looked at his wristwatch, " but it's seven o'clock?"

"Well ye are lucky if you-know-who isn't feeling any." she whispered. "Change of subject...I met yer mother, now I know who ye take after." she giggled. "quite a charmer she is."

"Thanks that's true." I guess you didn't meet the rest of the family then?"

"No, they didn't exactly look approachable."

He huffed. "That's what I was afraid of; I guess their snobbishness is showing? I'll have to have a little chat..."

"Not on my account?

"No just in general."

Elliott stood on her toes, giving Napoleon a kiss on the cheek, "ah sure ye can pick yer friends..."

"I know, " he laughed, " but you can't pick your family. Funny thing Bella and I had a very similar conversation.

"By the way yer mam made a date to have a dance with Demmy" she winked.

"Did she now? That's something I'd like to see." He gave Elliott a little hug then strolled back through the house, heading back to the reception.

Illya stepped out of no where, blocking his way. "You have a little problem my friend." he spoke softly.

"What _sort_ of problem would that be?"

"Your brother-in-law Vinnie asked me to find you; apparently there is a special visitor here asking to meet you."

"And who would that be?" Napoleon asked suspiciously

"Vito Muscatel"

"Who the hell is Vito Muscatel?"

"Napoleon...Don Vito "Fat Tony" Muscatel of the Camorra."

Like many facts that his partner managed to pull out of encyclopedic mind; this was another tidbit that eluded him. "I understand the Don part but Camorra?"

'That is the Neapolitan branch of la Cosa Nostra, not quite as well known as their Sicilian brethren."

"Someone from the _mob_ wants to meet me? And just how the hell did they get in here with all the security?"

"Apparently so and not just someone, _the_ someone...the capo tutti capi.

Solo still looked a little bewildered. The _big_ boss, the boss of bosses?"

"Napoleon. Italian wedding..._mafia_? There are bound to be a few guests here who are _associates_? Or it is possible they were invited out of respect, but have stayed out of sight? The Camorra are different from the the mob we are familiar with, they are more clannish and do not have the pyramidal organization that the Sicilians do, nor are their criminal enterprises as, shall we say _intense_. They tend to stay involved with more feuds among their clans, and more so in Naples and Calabria than here in the United States."

Napoleon walked along, following his partner to the library where this so-called guest waited for him. Illya paused for a moment.

"I suggest you give me your Walther, as you will most likely be searched... would not want to give yourself away? After all your cover as an insurance salesman must remain intact. I will be outside waiting for you."

"Illya, how the hell do you know all this? I'm Italian and I've never heard of the Camorra." he asked as he handed his weapon over.

"Backup?"

"unh-uh."

"Napoleon, you should read more often, you really need to keep up on things. Especially after UNCLE just took Benny-the-mouth into custody?

He harumphed his response to the Russian as they reached the library.

A rather large looking fellow nodded to Illya, frisked Napoleon very quickly, then opened the door letting him inside the room. The man then closed the door behind Solo, staring at the Russian.

"I will be right back," Illya said with a wry smile.

Napoleon entered the room cautiously, seeing a very thin man sitting in an over sized chair behind the desk. There were several ominous fellows surrounding him and his brother-in-law Vinnie rose from his chair to greet him.

"Napoleon, you are being afforded a great honor this evening, may I introduce to you Don Vito Muscatel. Don Vito this is my sister's husband Napoleone Solo."

The man behind the desk spoke with a rasping voice as he smoked on a rather large odorous cigar.

"Benvenuto_welcome Napoleone, I offer you congratulations on your marriage...may you have many healthy children and all of them male."

"This is _Fat_ Tony? " Napoleon mused silently to himself.

"Ugh, thank you sir?"

Napoleon's mind was racing, wondering what the hell this was all about, and more so how they'd gotten in. He reminded himself to have it out with security especially because Waverly was here and could be a potential target should anything turn ugly.

Then thoughts that Vinnie was involved with the mob entered his head, was his new brother-in-law a crooked cop and again Napoleon cursed security, everyone in the family had been vetted and come up clean, so how was this connection missed? Not that it would have stopped him from marrying Bella, but it was a bit of information that would have been good to know?"

"So Napoleone, I understand you are in the insurance business, international insurance. That is an area that has been of interest to me, perhaps we can come to a mutual understanding, say you working as an associate for my family, letting us in on some inside tips. It would be very lucrative for you as any favor you do for me, I in turn do for ?

"Hmm that sounds like a very nice offer, but my line of work really wouldn't be of help to you...you see I handle car insurance umm, for rental companies in Europe. I deal in accident claims and such, very boring."

One of the men leaned over to Fat Tony, whispering in his ear.

"I understand Napoleone and I appreciate your honesty, but should you ever need help in an endeavor or a favor do not hesitate to ask. We will always be around and watching, after all you are married to our favorite niece and my Goddaughter. You are famiglia now."

One of the other men stood, "I ask you now to take an oath of silence, the code of Omertà as it is the code of honor among the family, and you are family now are you not? You are not to speak of this to anyone, do you understand? Because to break the code is punishable by death.

"We ask you to swear to the Don?" One of the other men whispered.

Napoleon cleared his throat nervously, knowing he could not agree to that as in their eyes it would make him beholding to the mob. One did not swear fealty to la Cosa Nostra and not mean it.

He pretended to cough harder, then gasped he excused himself heading towards the door. "I'm sorry, I think I'm allergic to your cigar?Could you excuse me for a second?" he asked calmly.

Fat Tony waved that it was alright for him to go, allowing Napoleon to make a quick exit, then he heard laughter coming from inside the room.

There was no sign of Illya nor the guard in the hallway. He had broken out into a sweat; deciding to walk to the bathroom to throw some cold water on his face.

He pulled at the door knob, feeling as if it were stuck, then gave it a good yank. It went flying open, slamming right in his face and knocking him backwards. Illya came flying out.

"Napoleon? I am so sorry, the door was stuck." Then he eyed his partner's face, seeing a black eye beginning to blossom.

"Umm, gotta go, tell me about your meeting later." he said shoving Napoleon's Walther back into his hand."I need to find Elliott." Then Illya made a hasty retreat down the hallway, passing Alexander Waverly with his security escort.

Napoleon walked into the bathroom, turning on the cold water, splashing his face. He grabbed a towel, not looking in the mirror until he finished drying his face and that was when he saw it. A black eye. "Son of a bi.."he growled, intending to hunt down his partner and have a few words with him for not telling him.

Vinnie laughed as he sat in the library with his friends. "That was funny, but I really expected him to piss his pants? He was awfully calm?"

"Yeah, scary calm? Vinnie, he's really an insurance salesman?"

"Yeah, but I guess my brother-in-law is one cool customer? I would have taken him for a chicken, him and his fancy suits!"

"Hey but we had him going?"

"Vinnie how long you gonna let em sweat?" said the man posing as Fat Tony.

"Not long, I don't want my sister to kill me; she's gonna be pissed as it is!" he laughed even harder with his friends.

Napoleon returned to the reception finding Bella on the dance floor with Billy Brasch; excusing himself.

"What happened to you?" Billy asked, seeing Napoleon's black eye.

"Long story Bill, now if you don't mind if I cut in; I need to speak to my wife?" Napoleon took Bella in his arms, whisking her away.

"You are going to explain that shiner to me aren't you?" she asked.

"No, and when were you going to tell me about your Uncle?"

Bella could hear that he was annoyed. "Which one, Carmine, Anthony, Roberto or Salvatore?"

"None of the above...the one who's your godfather...?"

"Napoleon, Carmine is my godfather, you know that."

"Not that godfather..._the_ godfather, the Don."

"Napoleon will you just come out with it? What in heaven's name are you talking about? " She stopped dancing, putting her hands on her hips.

"I got pulled into a private meeting with Don Vito "Fat Tony" Muscatel, wanting me to swear an oath to la famiglia..."

Bella laughed, " And which one of my brothers was there?"

"Vinnie."

"Napoleon, you were _had_. I don't have a godfather Vito, much less one connected to the mob. Are you kidding, with my Uncle Carmine the ex-police commissioner? The mob steer clear of him and always have!" She started to giggle uncontrollably.

"That sneaky little Russian," Napoleon swore under his breath.

"What did Illya have to do with it?"

"He lead me to the meeting, told me he was delivering a message from Vinnie about"Fat Tony" being there to meet me...that smart ass, I bet he was in on this?"

"Napoleon, relax will you? You've now been officially welcomed into my family, that's what my brothers do...play pranks. There was no harm done, or was there?" she said looking more closely at his eye.

"You going to tell me how that happened?"

"Not really."

"Fine, see if I give you tender loving care tonight."

"Blackmailing me already?" he smiled.

"Of course."

"Alright, if you must know, Illya opened a bathroom door right into my face. He claimed it was stuck, but I think he was hiding in there because of the joke. Not that he meant to hit me with the door..."

"Downstairs bathroom?'

"Mm huh."

"Napoleon, that door does stick. Uncle Carmine always says he'll get around to fixing it, but never does. So I'm afraid Illya was telling the truth."

Napoleon rolled his eyes then spun Bella around as the song they were dancing to concluded.

Alexander Waverly was being escorted to the bathroom by his security team but at times even he could become tired of their proximity. He opened the door to the facilities with a little extra tug as he sighed.

"Honestly gentlemen, I assure you that your services with not be required inside the loo. Please, a little privacy is in order?"

The security team stood at ease while waiting for the "old man' to emerge when they were approached by several police officers, thinking nothing of it as there were a number of New York's finest present as it was after all a former Police Commissioner's home.

"Evenin' boys," one officer said, " then he and his partner produced syringes, quickly injecting them into the necks of the two unsuspecting agents; knocking them out with some unknown substance. Then they dragged the men across the carpeted floor, shoving them inside a nearby closet.

Alexander Waverly, with a bit of effort, pushed open the bathroom door at that exact moment.

"What the devil?" were the last words he said when a third officer shoved a cloth doused with ether over Waverly's face.

* ref "The Atlantean Affair"


	5. Chapter 5

Napoleon disappeared from his wife for a few minutes walking to the table where his father sat alone, he pulled up a chair along side him. Mom was off dancing with Demya in her arms, his sisters were finally on the dance floor having been charmed by some of Bella's more handsome cousins.

"Having a good time?" he asked his father facetiously.

"You know my feelings on this son. I only came to keep your mother happy."

"Gee thanks dad, real nice of you to want to be with _me_ on my wedding day?"

"I still don't understand how your organization is allowing this; in your line of work...well it just doesn't make sense?"

"They decided, thanks to my partner that it's something that _can_ and _does _work. And I for one decided not to wait; I found the right woman."

Darius Solo harumphed. "Don't even get me started about that damn commie friend of yours. How dare you pass over your only brother for best man, since you had to go through with this; at least you could have asked Hannibal? Napoleon, this is really all wrong. Son this girl went and got herself pregnant and your'e doing the honorable thing and that is commendable but I think she just did this on purpose; she saw dollar signs over your head and nothing more and ..."

"Dad, please keep your voice down. You need to stop right there as you're _absolutely_ wrong. She did no such thing, I proposed to her before she became...you know." he spoke quietly.

"Right. You know what son, good luck with that one, you're going to need it. If you think you're going to get anymore inheritance for her to ..."

Napoleon was angry now as he stood up, toppling his chair to the ground. "You know what Dad, keep your luck...I have enough of my own and as for your money, you can keep that too. Now, if you'll excuse me." He turned away from his father, not waiting for a response, and to keep from raising his voice in anger.

He would no longer cow-tow to the man. Darius Solo had crossed the line one too many times and Napoleon had finally tired of his father's condescending rhetoric. The senior Solo had berated his son for his choice to join U.N.C.L.E. criticized his friendship with Illya Kuryakin, treating rudely time and again and now he insulted Bella. Napoleon was done with him and for some reason that decision made him feel as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest. He went off in search of a nice glass of scotch to finalize that feeling.

"Let's get him out of here...Mario you walk in front of us to block the view. If anybody asks; he's passed out drunk and we're taking him out to put him in a taxi that's waiting to take him home. They carried the body of Alexander Waverly between them, shoving his top hat on the man's head to help disguise him.

Gina Rossini came stumbling past the policemen as they disappeared down the hallway, not paying mind to the 'drunk' they were carrying. She was feeling no pain herself, giving her a false sense of courage when she walked up the hall, running straight to Elliott Kuryakin who had just returned from using an upstairs bathroom.

"You...I wanna have summm wordsss with you," Gina slurred at her.

"Go way with ye! Ye are drunk and it wouldn't be a fair fight. Hell it wouldn't be a fair fight even if ye were sober? " Elliott laughed. "and I did promise my husband not to get involved."

"I can't believe that Illya is married to a Mick like you? He needs a real hot latin-blooded, no that's hot-blooded I-tal-yun woman like meeee, I would...I would know how to take cccare of himmm!"

"Ye stay away from my husband Missy. Just _leave_ him be as he has no interest in ye."Elliott said calmly. " He's happily married with a son and another baby on the way."

"Don't tell me what to do yoooo Irish bitchhh." Gina tried taking a swing at her.

Elliott very easily grabbed her wrist, stopping the blow as she pulled Gina's arm behind her, putting her into a head lock. She felt the woman go limp and gently lowered her down to the floor, realizing she was reeking of alcohol and was sure that Gina was now conveniently passed out.

"Now to duck her out of sight." Elliott spotted a closet door and was in the process of dragging the larger woman by the arms across the floor to it when Illya suddenly appeared.

"It's not what it looks like," she said sheepishly.

"Oh really?" he smiled, "would you care to explain?"

Elliott let Gina drop unceremoniously to the carpet with a thud.

"Illuysha I swear, she took a drunken swing at me and passed out. I didn't do a thing to her. I was just looking for a place ta stick her and I thought the closet would be more appropriate than leaving her passed out in the middle of the hallway?"

Illya smiled at her. "I _suppose_ that sounds reasonable enough."

"_Excuse_ me? Ye should think otherwise since I _gave_ ye my word?" she said with sarcasm in her voice."reasonable enough my arse!"

Illya hoisted Gina up with a grunt, ignoring his wife's words, " Just get the door please?" he said. But when Elliott opened the closet, he stared inside with his mouth hanging open, letting Gina drop again to the floor with another thud.

"What's wrong?" Elliott asked as she peeked around the closet door.

"Jay-sus! It's Waverly's security team?"

They left Gina where she lay, heading immediately outside to the reception in search of Alexander Waverly, but there was no sign of him.

Elliott spotted Mrs. Solo dancing another tarantella with Demmy in her arms and asked the woman to hold on to him for a bit as there was an issue that had to be seen to.

"Of course dear, that's not a problem. Is there something wrong?" The woman could see the concern in her eyes, "Elliott, what's wrong?"

"Nothing right now...if Demmy gets to be too much, then Lisa Rogers will take him from ye. I have ta go." she said hurriedly as she took off towards the front of the house.

Illya grabbed Mark, "Find Napoleon now ! We have a problem, Waverly has gone missing."

Slate dropped his fork to his plate, taking off amid the guests; his eyes darting in every direction.

Elliott caught up with Illya; finding him standing next to Waverly's limo holding a piece of paper in his hands. The driver, still sitting in the front seat was slumped over the steering wheel.

She pulled her Saturday night special from her clutch bag. " Is he dead?"

"Nyet, just drugged." He handed the note to his wife.

"He's being ransomed for Benny-the-mouth?" she asked after reading it "Who the hell is that?"

"Elliott you are as bad as Napoleon, do you not read the security briefs?'

"Well, not all the time...'

"Benny was caught laundering money for Thrush, but he is a member of la Cosa Nostra. UNCLE took him into custody a week ago."

"So I take it by his name that his people are afraid he'll talk?"

"Perhaps, I am sure his knowledge of the inner workings of the mob have them nervous in spite of their code of Omertá."

"What's that?"

"It's their code of silence that all members must swear to. They vow not to rat anyone out, and to serve their jail sentence in silence, upon pain of death if they talk. But unfortunately for them, Benny is living up to his name and has agreed to talk to a Senate Sub-Committee investigating organized crime. The F.B.I. is due to take custody of him in two days.

"Sounds grand."

Napoleon and Mark came running up behind them.

"They got Waverly," Illya called.

"Who's _they_?" Solo asked.

"The mob."

"Listen Illya if this is another one of those sick jokes that my brothers-in-law put you up to, I swear..."

"No Napoleon it is not a joke. They have Waverly," he said.

Elliott passed the note to him. "The want us at the Brooklyn Warf and Warehouse by the mouth of the East River across from Governor's Island."

"By midnight." Napoleon said looking at the note, "They want to trade Waverly for this Benny-the-mouth character?"

"We need to get back to headquarters." Illya said, " but not you Napoleon, it is your wedding after all."

"Like hell, I'm going and no arguments. Remember, I'm in charge while Waverly isn't here?"

Illya was of no mind to argue with his partner, but asked Elliott to stay with Bella under the circumstances and given the fact that Demya was with them.

They returned to the reception to find Bella and as soon as she saw the four agents with the looks in their eyes; she knew something was very wrong.

"Napoleon, please no? It's our wedding." she whispered.

"Honey, the mob has kidnapped Alexander Waverly. I can't stay here, I have to save him. I'm sorry."

"Well I did vow for better or for worse; I just didn't expect the _worse_ part to start so soon? Napoleon,please be careful?"

"Always am baby," He kissed her then told her not to wait for him and to just go home. "Elliott, please take good care of her?"

The fiery red-head nodded, though she was not happy about being excluded from the rescue but understood that it was necessary.

Napoleon, Illya, Mark, the now conscious security team and Lisa Rogers left for head quarters, taking Waverly's limo. The remaining section III agents in attendance were ordered to stay at the reception to keep a watchful eye.

Carmine Valenti was informed that Waverly had been kidnapped by men disguised as police officers; putting the NYPD was put on alert. Everyone's ID was being checked, but the incident put the kybosh_ the little death, as Elliott called it on the festivities and the wedding broke up without the cake ever being cut.

Traffic was light, and it took just about a half hour for the agents to drive from Yonkers to the entrance at Del Floria's.

When they walked into the shop dressed in their wedding attire Del smiled at how fine they all looked, but then realized they should be at Solo's wedding. Something was obviously wrong but as usual he said nothing. He hit the steam press signalling reception as to their arrival.

Napoleon Solo entered the interrogation room at headquarters holding the prisoner known as Benny-the-mouth Chanbano. He opened the man's dossier that he carried with him, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Benny face to face for the first time. Except for a pencil thin moustache, he was the spitting image of Solo. His hair was slicked back, and skin was a little darker complected than the agents', but the resemblance was uncanny.

"So Benny, dabbling a bit on the side with Thrush I see?"

"Yeah wad of it? Big deal, so yez got me on money laundering, I got me a deal with da Feds soz what youz Uncle types want wid me?"

"Well it seems your boss wants you back very badly, I wonder why?"

"Da boss? No way I ain't goin' back. I made a deal widda Feds, I go back and I'm a dead man. They'll kill me, they know I talked...I broke da code."

"Yah right." Solo said. Just then a member of the F.B.I. stepped into the room.

Illya watched though a two-way mirror as the F.B.I. man entered the room. He folded his arms, smiling as he knew this was going to get good.

No one interrupted Solo in that room and not suffer the consequences.

"And who the hell are you?" Napoleon barked.

"Richard Brennan," he said flashing his badge." Mr. Changano is a Federal witness and under our protection, we've been made aware of the situation with Mr. Waverly but sorry, there will be no trading him."

"Hold it right there Mr. Brennan. You don't walk into my interrogation in _my_ headquarters and tell me what to do. Now get out. I will inform you of my plans in a more appropriate setting or..."

"Who the hell do you think you are Solo?"

"Out, or I _will_ have my security escort you out."

"I want to talk to who ever is in charge here!" growled Brennan.

"I am in charge here." snapped Solo. He flipped an intercom switch.

"Security, please escort Mr. Brennan out of the building."

"Brennan, you can come back for your prisoner in two days and not before. Period."

"You're not going to hear the last of this Solo!" he shouted as Security took him by the arm.

"_Bite_ me," Napoleon mumbled.

After Brennan was removed from the room, Napoleon returned his attention to Chanbano. "So Benny, why would your boss want you back so badly? Surely not just to "off" you? He could have that done while you're in prison. What is it, what does he want from you?" Napoleon crinkled his nose when he said that.

"Alright, "Benny said, I ain't really gonna talk for the Feds, I ain't that stupido? Ya see, I know the location of a large drug shipment that never quite made it to where it was supposed to go. Ya got ya heroin, cocaine, marijuana, LSD, pills...you name it. It's my insurance...I serve my time, den when I gadout bada-bing, I'm home free. The kilos of heroin alone that I got stockpiled will put me on easy street for da resta my life, You know wad I mean?"

"Benny, you know you're not going to live long enough to enjoy a dime from those ill-gotten goods? You think the Don doesn't know what you've been up to?"

"Nah, he ain't got a clue. But I did have some partners in on the deal?"

"Well maybe you and I we can cut another deal...one da Feds don't hafta know about. I can give you da location of one of my stashes? You take care a me, and keep me oudda da hands of my partners and...well you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. So we godda deal?"

"Deal" Napoleon smiled, looking at the two-way mirror, knowing his partner was watching.

The pneumatic doors to the conference room opened silently as Mark Slate returned thirty minutes later, having verified the location of Benny's drugs.

"Cor mate, it was a mighty big stash of heroin that yer man has set aside for himself and you say that's just the tip of the iceberg? I don't get it Napoleon, how is knowing where one of Benny's stashes going to help us get Waverly from the mobsters. They want Benny."

Napoleon turned to face Mark, "Dat all depends, maybe I can cudda deal wit da boys." he smiled. His hair had been slicked back and he was now wearing a false pencil-thin moustache.

"Cor mate, you could be Benny's twin." Mark stood with his mouth open.

"Waverly would never stand for a trade, you know his feelings about that. So Napoleon, disguised as Benny will be traded instead." Illya said.

"Guv, that sounds sort of risky doesn't it? Isn't there the possibility that they'd just kill you?"

"That's were the heroin comes into play. It's his good-faith offering. They'll need him alive to find out where the rest of it is located."

"Mate, what if they don't care?"

"Kissing an inventory of drugs with a street value in the multi-million dollar range goodbye Mark? I hardly think so."

"Still Napoleon, there is that risk?" Illya said, "are you sure a frontal assault would not be better?"

"No, too risky in getting the old man killed. I'll just have to rely on you tovarisch getting in to help me get myself out." he smiled.

Illya was not so sure he liked that plan, but there was little choice as the midnight deadline was looming over them like a ghostly spectre.

Mark would bring a boat up along the water through the Buttermilk Channel that ran between the piers and Governor's Island, tying up beside the two bulkheads at the piers known as South Central.

That would be their best means of escape with Waverly, as the 40 acre warehouse complex with train tracks crisscrossing the area's old cobblestone streets and alleys was too convoluted to make a quick get away.

The Brooklyn Warf and Warehouse founded in 1850 consisted of a myriad of storage facilities both large and small, with dilapidated, abandoned freight cars sitting on disused tracks. The place was a virtual landscape of obstacles and would be difficult to near impossible to elude anyone on foot, especially with a man of Waverly's age.

Driving in the area at that time of night would be too dangerous, as it was poorly lit and there were simply too may turns and impediments to allow for a car to maneuver safely at any speed.

They couldn't count on not being double-crossed, so a retreat with Waverly to the piers would be the best and most expeditious option to take flight as the mobsters might decide that killing the head of U.N.C.L.E. Northwest would be a coup for them and raise their status among la Cosa Nostra.

It was twenty minutes before the deadline when Mark Slate cut the motor on the the speed boat, then he paddled it in silently with the help of Solo and Kuryakin.


	6. Chapter 6

It was one of U.N.C.L.E.'s fastest watercraft called a cigarette boat designed with a long narrow platform and a planing hull to enable it to reach high speeds. It was equipped with two powerful engines with more than 1,000 combined horsepower allowing it to travel at speeds of 80 knots in calm water and over 50 knots in choppy waters and was a useful tool as this type of boat was difficult to detect by radar on flat calm seas or at close range.

This little beauty as Mark called her, was dubbed "_The Mañana___tomorrow,_ in Spanish; she was stealthy fast, seaworthy and difficult to intercept when being pursued by conventional craft.

The agents only hoped that the mobsters holding Waverly did not have a Jersey Skiff beached nearby as that was one of the few boats that could keep up. It was a shallow draft boat with a narrow flat bottom, and was a class of fishing boat converted to a speedboat back in the days of prohibition, equipped with powerful engines to allow rum-runners to out run the coast guard, and customs police. It was still a favored mode of transport for the mob both for work and play.

It was late and everything happened so quickly that it took a bit of maneuvering on the part of Lisa Rogers and communications to put together a back up team for the three agents.

Several agents from both sections II and III were rounded up and would be approaching via land to support the rescue operation. Solo, Kuryakin and Slate had no idea of how many mobsters they would be up against but if Napoleon and Illya's plan worked; then the number of men they were up against were secondary until Waverly was safely extricated.

After trading Napoleon aka Benny for Waverly and making sure that the old man was out of harms way; Illya, who was doing his acrobatic thing somewhere on the top of the building would free his partner, again depending on the amount of the opposition. If there were too many; then he would be forced to wait for back up.

He and Napoleon and Mark disembarked from the Mañana, walking carefully along the tracks leading from the pier heading towards the warehouse.

The Brit took careful note, charting out the easiest path in which to quickly escort Waverly safely back to the boat.

"Ready mate?" he whispered to Solo as they approached the entrance.

Napoleon took a deep breath, then nodded as he watched Illya disappear off into the darkness to the side of the warehouse, carrying a grappling hook and a coil of rope with him.

Mark drew his Walther from his shoulder holster, aiming it at his parnter.

"Hey, be careful where you point that thing?" Napoleon said.

"I _will_ try."

"Real funny Mark, you been hanging around my partner lately?"

They walked into the warehouse cautiously, Mark's eyes scanning the area. Napoleon lead the way carrying the canvas bag of heroin as Mark stayed behind him, making sure that his Walther was visible.

So far they could see only three of the mobsters, as the old building was fairly large and empty except for a large stack of cardboard boxes piled up neatly to one side. There was no sign of Waverly and for an instant Napoleon feared they had been duped and the 'Old Man' was dead. The stopped as they neared the men, standing about fifteen feet from them.

"I'm Mark Slate of The United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, and I've brought Benny Chanbano to trade for Alexander Waverly as agreed. But I assure you that if any harm has come to Waverly mate, then you and yours'll be be right bolluxed."

"Don't worry Limey, we got da old guy safe and sound. Though he did get a little bump on da head but we didn't do dat on purpose-like ya know?"

"Let's see him then."

The mobster nodded, "Mario go get the old geezer will ya?"

"Right Paulie."

The one called Mario, what Napoleon would call a big palooka of a guy walked from behind the wall of boxes with his arm securely latched onto Alexander Waverly; his hands obviously tied behind his back and there was a sizable lump on in forehead.

Waverly eyed Slate first, then looking carefully at then man with him; he recognized Napoleon Solo instantly, but gave no acknowledgement to that fact.

"Are you alright sir?" Mark called to him.

"Of course I am Mr. Slate, are you losing your eyesight? What the deuce are you doing with Mr. Chanbano...you know I have a standing order against prisoner exchanges."

"Sorry sir, not this time." Mark answered calmly. "now how do you gents want to do this?'

"Benny toss the bag over first, just to make sure it's legit."

Napoleon hefted it with a grunt; the canvas bag landing in front of the man named Carlo.

He reached into it, puncturing a wrapper and tasting the substance, rubbing a bit of it against his gum with a smile. "Good shit" he smiled. "I'm a man of my word, go ahead let the old geezer loose." he said to Mario.

"I beg to differ young man, but an old geezer I am not." Waverly snapped at him with indignation as he pulled his arm free from Mario's grip.

Napoleon and Waverly passed each other as the walked across the warehouse floor, barely casting a glance in each other's direction.

Slate guided the man behind him, still holding his Walther at the mobsters as the two of them now carefully backed out of the warehouse.

As soon as they were outside he grabbed Waverly, cutting his bonds and guiding him quickly through the darkened freight yard down to the pier.

Waverly remained silent until they reached the speed boat, then spoke once they had climbed in.

"I am grateful for the rescue Mr. Slate, but now please give me the details of the rest of the plan, it is obvious that Mr. Solo is up to something, and where is Mr. Kuryakin? I would not expect one without the other on an operation such as this."

"Mr. K. should be on the roof of the warehouse as we speak sir. The primary goal was to exact your release, then Illya...I mean Mr. Kuryakin will take down the mobsters that kidnapped you and get Mr. Solo out as well."

"Short but sweet plan young man, but hasn't a back up team been engaged?"

"Yes sir, a half dozen men are on their way coming through the yards, they should be here shortly and will be awaiting Mr. Kuryakin's signal if he finds he is in need of assistance. The police department is also aware of the situation and once the scene is secured they will be here to take over."

"Very good Mr. Slate, excellent work. It was rather fortuitous that Mr. Solo and Mr. Chanbano looked very much alike. I had realized it when I first saw the man, but at the time thought little of it. Who would have thought this situation would have occurred? Now where may I ask did the illicit drugs come from?"

"Chanbano sir. He thinks he cut a deal with Napoleon to keep his former partners off his back. He plans not to inform to the Sub-committee as he agreed and has a stockpile of drugs waiting for him after he gets out from serving his time. He thinks he paid Mr. Solo off in heroin to take care of the partners. Apparently his Don is unaware of he and his partners outside drug dealings."

"Quite," Waverly said, " The Camorra are known for many things, but drug dealing is not one of them. Vincente Calabria their current Don, is very much against it. Oddly he prefers the old school methods of extortion, gambling, money laundering boot-legging and prostitution and they are generally too busy feuding amongst themselves to do much more than that."

Mark looked at his digital wrist watch, seeing that it was now half-past midnight. " Mr. Kuryakin should be getting his part of the plan under way as we speak sir."

The Russian, dressed in his standard black turtle neck and pants tossed a padded grappling hook upwards, catching it on the ledge of the aged brick warehouse. The building had to be one of the oldest in the complex and was in a major state of disrepair. Illya hoped that the ledge would not give way as he quickly hoisted himself up along the wall to the roof top.

He found it strewn with debris and dirt as he wandered past a decrepit water-tower that stood like a sentinel in the middle of the structure. Then moved carefully across the roof top; the full moon his source of light and the twinkling lights of the vast Manhattan skyline as his backdrop.

Illya headed towards one of several skylights, kneeling beside one as he peered down into the warehouse, observing the figures thirty feet below. He saw a man go behind a stack of cardboard boxes, then return with Alexander Waverly in his grasp, and observed as the exchange took place.

Napoleon and Waverly walked past each other, giving no sign of acknowledgement to each other. Then Mark motioned the 'old man' behind him as they backed out, leaving the ware house.

Once they left he observed one of the mobsters suddenly turning , taking a swing at Solo, hitting him in the jaw; the blow throwing him off balance and to the floor.

Kuryakin had to work fast and could not assume that Napoleon would be safe. He carefully lifted open the skylight, praying that it's rusty hinges would not moan with age, alerting the others below to his presence.

He held his breath as he raised it, and thankfully there was no sound. Illya climbed down to the narrow rafters below him, extending his arms out to maintain his balance; easily walking across as if he were on a Sunday stroll in the park.

"Alright Benny, you piece of crud, you were gonna double cross us wasn't ya? You cough up the rest of doze drugs or ya gonna pay da price." Carlo warned.

"Yah, wot would be dat? Youz won't do nutthin' ta me, cause youz want da drugs." Napoleon answered putting on a heavy accent, trying to imitate the real Benny's speech pattern.

"Benny, you sound funny?" Paulie said.

"Gotta cold," Napoleon bluffed.

"I don't care watcha got Benny, now give up da resta da goods." Carlo said as he struck Napoleon on the chin with his fist.

Napoleon went down to the floor, but lay there simply rotating his jaw as he rubbed it with his hand.

"You gonna talk Benny or what?"

Paulie looked up, suddenly catching movement out of the corner of his eye. "What the fuck?" he raised his handgun aiming it at the dark figure in the rafters and fired, watching in satisfaction as it fell crashing down on top of the cardboard boxes.

Napoleon lowered his head as he rose from the floor, trying to hide his reaction, fearing now that his partner was dead.

"Check it out Mario." Carlo ordered.

Mario climbed into the pile of boxes now crushed and scattered. He grabbed the black-clad man by the arm, dragging him out to the floor and dumping him in front of Carlo and the others.

Illya moaned then rolled over slowly. The bullet from Paulie's gun had grazed his temple knocking him out long enough to lose his balance and drop like a lead sinker but the boxes broke his fall, saving his life.

"Bet you he's one of those freakin' UNCLE guys? Youz want I should off him Carlo?"

Mario pulled Illya up to his feet by the back of his jacket, pressing a gun barrel to the Russian's already bloody temple; holding him up in the air as if her were a rag doll.

"No!" Napoleon blurted out before Carlo could answer, " he's one of us."

"Wadda mean one of us?" Carlo demanded" I don't know that gavone?Any youz know dis guy?" he asked of Mario and Paulie.

"That's because he's from Chicago" Napoleon answered "...yeah he ugh is gonna help us with the drug distribution. We may be able to even start our own family wit his guidance. He's like my consigiliare_ trusted advisor, but be careful he's a little _essere un po' di fuorie__a little crazy in the head." Solo cautioned.

Mario released his grip on Kuryakin, letting him fall limp to the warehouse floor, setting off a cloud of dust as he landed.

"Take it easy, you shouldn't mess with him, dats Joey 'the gut' Bacala." Napoleon bluffed.

"Joey Bacala huh? Da gut?" Carlo said trying to fathom the connection of the nickname to such a skinny guy. He grabbed Illya by the collar of his jacket, " well this piece of salted codfish is gonna end up sleeping with da fishes if you don't tell me what da fuck you got going on Benny?"

"Yes, yous see, I ummm came to assist..ugh, help Benny-the-mouth here to take care of the drug distribution while he was in the ah...slammer" Illya said trying to use the vernacular, but was not having much success.

"You talk funny Joey Bacala, ye don't sound like youz is from Chicago?"

"South side." Illya mumbled as he wiped the blood from his forehead with his hand." do you mind?" He asked, gesturing, asking if it was alright to reach for his handkerchief."

Paulie frisked him, pulling the Russian's switchblade from his jacket lining, as well as his backup pistol strapped to his ankle. Illya's Walther lay somewhere amid the piles cardboard boxes.

Paulie pulled the handkerchief from Illya's pocket, handing it over, then shoved him over towards Napoleon.

"Ya know what we gotta talk about dis" Carlo said, "bringing him in will mean a nudder cut inta da pie. Capisce?"

The three mobsters stepped away from the agents, but kept them in view. Napoleon snatched the cloth from Illya's hand, taking over cleaning his partners scalp while they whispered together.

"Bacala?" Illya complained " You had to name me after a salted codfish?"

"Sorry, I had to think quick."but _the gut_ was fitting I think." He smiled trying to bring some levity to a tense situation.

"And how are we going to get out of this one, you do have you a plan? the Russian asked.

"I'm still working that out; if they hadn't seen you then we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Oh so this is _my_ fault?"

"I didn't say that."

"Implied."

"Well it was not intentional...shhush. They're coming over. Just follow my lead."

"Like a bloodhound." Illya smiled.

"Alright, seeing is how youz think we can start our own family, then we needs us a consigiliare, so he's in. But not for a full share, let's say he gets a consultin' fee. Deal?'

"Deal," Illya answered, trying to sound like a tough guy."We will talk bout' them percentages later."

"So where's ya people from Joey? Voi Siciliani_you Sicilian?" Mario asked, " and why youz called da gut?"

Illya switched to Italian as he realized he wasn't having much luck with his unrehearsed mobster dialect.

"Eh Non ti sembro Siciliano? Lo sono di Cremona vicino del nord_ eh, do I look Sicilian? I am from Cremona in the north."

"Dat explains da blue eye and hair, but why dey call you da gut?"

Illya took on a menacing appearance as he spoke, giving the man one of his infamous icy stares."Perché io festa dei miei memici_because I feast upon my enemies. So best not to become my enemy."

Mario looked at Napoleon who twirled his finger to the side of his head. "I told you, he's a bit_ roba di matti__crazy." Napoleon whispered.

Having been warned, Mario broke off his attempts at conversation with Joey Bacala; taking a few paces away from him as he warily eyed the slight blond man.

"So Benny," Carlo said, " it's about time youz let us in on where ya got doze goods stashed?"

Napoleon smiled at the man, please with himself that his ruse was working. Now if they could stall for time for the backup team to get here, then they'd be home free.

"All in good time, Carlo, let's not rush things, ya know. Dats why I brought that sack a smack wit me...a show of good faith for what's to come?"

"Alright, what's say we blow dis joint and head to Umbertos, they'll let us have the back room special-like, seeings how it's an occasion. But " Carlo looked at his watch, " we gotta wait for Tony."

Illya and Napoleon glanced at each other, having no clue as to who Carlo was referring to, but within a few minutes they found out and it was not good news.

"Shit," Napoleon cursed under his breath as the man walked into he warehouse.

"ayyy Ton-eee, mi goomba!" Carlo yelled to him. Napoleon recognized him instantly as the man masquerading as 'Fat Tony' in the little practical joke his bother in law Vinnie had pulled on him.

Carlo and Tony hugged each other, slapping each other on the backs.

"That was a great favor you did for us Tony, gettin' us inta dat shindig to grab da old man; it worked like a charm. Hey let me introduce to youz the man that you helped get free."

Tony Pesce, this is Benny Changano and his consigliari, Joey Bacala from Chicago. Benny this is Tony, he's not part of the famiglia, but he's goomba ya know? A pisan_friend."

Tony took one look at Napoleon, scratched his head for a second as if thinking, but then he spotted Illya, who had lowered his head in a vain attempt to hide his face from the man.

"I don't think so Carlo, " he said pointing at the blond Russian, " that guy is Illya Kuryakin an U.N.C.L.E. agent, and I'd lay money that this guy, " he said, reaching out, suddenly ripping off Napoleon's false moustache, "isn't Benny Chanbano, he's the partner Napoleon Solo, the guy who's wedding it was."

"What da fuck?" Carlo turned instantly drawing his pistol from his belt.

Illya was the first to react, diving straight out with a round house kick, knocking the gun flying from Carlo's hand, and as he continued to spin he brought down a chop to the man's neck rendering him unconscious.

Napoleon grabbed Carlo's gun in mid flight, as he dove in the air, catching it as he spun, firing it only once; hitting Tony Pesce directly in the forehead.

Mario and Paulie scrambled for cover, as the two agents retreated; heading straight to the warehouse door, but not before Napoleon grabbed the sack of heroin. He turned, getting off a few shots to cover them as they headed out the door. They moved along the railroad tracks, finding less debris there to fall over in the darkness as they ran like hell for the pier and the safety of the waiting speed boat.

Then suddenly Illya went flying down to his hands and knees as he tripped on a piece of rebar still embedded in chunks of concrete; it's jagged edge slicing across his thigh. He let out a yelp of pain and his partner grabbed him without missing a beat.

Napoleon dropped the bag of drugs leaving it to the side as he pulled Illya to his feet; grabbing him by the waist, supporting him with his arm over his shoulder as he limped toward the pier. They could hear the mobsters behind them, letting off a few wild rounds in their general direction, but luckily the containers and freight cars offered the agents enough cover to remain unseen.

Napoleon yelled to Slate as they approached the bulkhead.

"Start that engine now!" He didn't have to repeat it as he heard a rumble of the motor kicking in, then idling. He lowered Illya into the boat then climbed in after him, pulling the mooring line free as he did.

"Punch it Mark!"

The slim cigarette boat took off with a roar as Mark guided it out into the channel heading up into the mouth of the East river. After a few minutes he lowered the speed as they motored past the many commercial docks and warehouses that lined the piers along the river. They seemed to be in the clear.

The waterway, one of the busiest in New York was filled steamers, cargo ships, barges and tugboats helping to guide them along the river or to moor to the docks to off load. Napoleon took over the helm, he being the more experienced boatman; navigated their way up towards the Brooklyn Bridge. They would head for the secure docking tunnel that U.N.C.L.E. maintained beneath the United Nations complex, allowing their craft immediate access to the river directly from headquarters.

"Mr. Kuryakin, are you aware that your leg is bleeding?" Waverly asked.

"Yes sir, it is not bad. I am fine," The Russian answered.

"Nonsense, Mr. Slate there is a first aid kit located beneath the console if you would be so good as to fetch it, as we can at least staunch the bleeding with some gauze until we reach medical."

"I am fine sir, I assure you." Illya insisted only to be quieted in his protests as Waverly began cleaning his leg wound. He grit his teeth, not wanting to show that it actuallly hurt and instead pulled his communicator pen from his pocket.

"Open Channel F- Pedersen"

"Rolph here Illya we're at the warehouse now, no sign of them, except for one dead body."

"No matter, be careful just the same" he answered, "If you make your way along the railroad tracks toward the South pier, try to locate a large canvas bag as it contains as substantial amount of heroin; if you would be so kind as to retrieve it?"

Suddenly there was a roar of a powerful engine coming from behind the Mañana accompanied by gunfire...pursuit by the Jersey skiff they had been concerned about had indeed become reality. Carlo, Mario and Paulie were gaining on them as their boat too had a powerful engine that allowed it to cut through the strong current like butter.

"Napoleon we have company, a little more speed would be good!" Kuryakin yelled to him.

Solo took a quick look back to see where the skiff was; seeing that it was moving in on them quickly. He pushed the shift into high gear, thrusting the the speed boat up to 70 knots as he now steered it, dodging in and out past the other vessels on the water. Turns at that speed could be dangerous, as one could easily lose control of a boat at that speed, sending it hurtling over.

The tugs sounded their horns in protest as the the cigarette boat and the skiff engaged in a wild high speed chase on the dark waters of the East River.

Solo tossed his gun to his partner while Illya and Mark Slate returned fire as the skiff pulled closer, pushing Waverly to keep his head down.

"Napoleon!" Illya yelled, "faster! They are gaining on us!"

They were nearing the bridge when Mark Slate went down in a yelp of pain ; he was hit in the arm, dropping him to the floor of the boat.

Waverly grabbed Slates' special that had been converted to a carbine, leaning on the aft railing of the boat, getting off a few well place rounds.

Napoleon suddenly realized that there were two large freighters being guided directly in their path by a pair of tugboats; the ships emergency horns buzzers and bells sounding warning as the speedboat headed directly towards them on a perceived collision course.

"Get down and hold on!" He yelled over the roar of the freighters as they approached. Solo piloted the boat directly between them letting out an emotional cry thinking they might not make it and be crushed like a toothpick between the two hulking ships!

"Whooooaaaoh shit!"

The Mañana tore between the the two freighters, just making it past as the they came within feet of each other. Napoleon turned his head, looking backwards as he heard the Jersey skiff being crushed between the massive metal hulls and the screams of the men in it. If that hadn't killed them, then the dangerous currents of the river would, as it was notorious for taking anyone who fell in it to their deaths.

Solo grabbed the radio, calling the harbor patrol and Coast Guard; notifying them of the the incident; that there would be bodies in the water to be recovered, as he cut the speed, motoring up the river to the secret U.N.C.L.E. dock.

Waverly, Mark Slate and Illya were helped from of the boat to the dock by waiting security and medical teams.

"Excellent work gentlemen" Waverly said to his agents, " and thank you for coming to my rescue with such a clever plan, though it was one that could have gone wrong very easily? I'll expect your reports in the morning. Mr. Kuryakin, Mr. Slate off to medical with you both...and Mr. Solo I believe you have a bride to go home to?"

Mark was only winged, in the fleshy part of the arm and seemed fine as he walked through the tunnel with Mr. Waverly. Illya said he would be along shortly; staying instead with Napoleon as he secured the moorings to the boat. They took a moment to sit along the dock, under the moonlight with the lights of the city reflecting in the dark of the water.

Illya pulled out a packet of Turkish blend cigarettes from his jacket pocket, offering one to Napoleon who lit them both with his silver cigarette lighter. They sat together quietly; their legs dangling over the dock like a pair of children.

"Your leg okay?"

"It will be fine, it looks worse than it is."

"We did a good job back there tovarisch,"

"I am glad; I was not looking forward to being a rehydrated codfish thrown back to the river?"

"Next time though tovarisch, leave the Italian...especially the dialect to me. Your accent is really is bad."

"Napoleon!"

"Just kidding. Capisce?"

"Ponyatyi_understood,"He answered instead in Russian.

They sat without saying a word for a few minutes as the smoke from their cigarettes curled around their heads, the smokes and staring at the moon seemed to help settle their adrenaline levels; both men always intending to quit the habit, but never seeming to be able to manage it.

Napoleon broke the silence, humming the melody to a song.

"What is that?" Illya asked.

"Cé La Luna Mezza' Mare. They sang it at the reception."

"There is a moon in the middle of the sea?" Illya translated.

Napoleon smiled, "Yes it's a little bit bawdy song...about a daughter being married off to proposed suitors. He proceeded to sing one of the verses in Italian.

"Si ci dugnu zuppunaru, iddu va iddu va veni

'u zappuni manu teni Si ci pigghia la fantasia

ti zappunia la frigghia mia"

"My daughter who do I get for you, mother I leave it up to you

If I give you the farmer he will come and he will go

But he'll always hold his plough in his hands, if he likes the idea

he'll plough you oh my daughter"

"Yes, hmmm. I get the rather vivid similes." the Russian smiled," though your singing as usual leaves much to be desired. Unlike other desires that the umm, lyrics and imagery have seemed to have stirred in me?"

Napoleon let the lyrics roll over in his mind for a second, remembering he now had a wife waiting home for him for their wedding night.

"Ya know what tovarisch, my sentiments exactly." he said quickly as the words to the song suddenly snapped his libido to attention. I'll send your wife home with your regards from medical. I have a bride to attend to." he smile slyly.

"No thank you Napoleon. I will pass on medical and I will fetch Elliott myself." he smiled as he hoisted himself up from the dock along with his partner; both tossing their unfinished cigarette butts into the river. Illya resolving in his mind that he was going to finally quit smoking once and for all...

They arrived at Napoleon's penthouse a short while later; finding Elliott asleep in the sofa with Demya safely tucked away in the guest bedroom.

"Mmmm bout' time ye got home ye two?"she said as she heard the door open, " Is he safe and sound?"

"As safe as can be, "Illya smiled leaning over and kissing his wife on the forehead.

"Why don't you two just stay here," Napoleon suggested, "just don't let me hear any loud moans coming from the bedroom please?That, shall we say is mine and Bella's privilege," he smiled at them.

"Rest assured with Demya present, things will be, shall we say...under cover?" Illya smiled wryly.

"What are ye both up to? Elliott smiled.

"The operative word moya lyubov' is _up_." Illya whispered as he directed her to the spare room.

Napoleon walked into the master bedroom, removing his clothes without making a sound, then carefully he crawled into bed with his wife.

"Hello Mr. Solo," Bella whispered as he snuggled next to her.

"Hello Mrs. Solo," he answered her, " that has a nice ring to it don't you think? Sorry, I woke you...well not really." he smiled." Your Uncle Alex is safe and sound so that worry has been put to bed..."

"Napoleon?"

"Yes Bella?"

"Just shut up and kiss me?"

"Mmmm, yes dear, my pleasure."

FINIS

Authors note: a very BIG shout out to jkkitty1 who's continued suggestions and support of this story were invaluable. She has a wonderful sense of humor and great ideas. Thanks Pat!


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